Tenacious of Life
by ErykahMiszti
Summary: A bit of a writing experiment. A 'what if' kind of a tale concerning Spike. What if what we know is true but only the smallest part of his story? Spoilers for Season 5, sort of alternative universe and yet somehow not.
1. Way Back Then

TITLE: Tenacious of Life

AUTHOR: Erykah Miszti 

EMAIL: erykah@sweet-poison.net

WEBSITE: http://www.sweet-poison.net/

SUMMARY: A bit of a writing experiment. A 'what if' kind of a tale concerning Spike. What if what we know is true but only the smallest part of the story? 

SPOILERS: Up to Season five.. sort of Alternative universe and yet somehow not. *frown*

RATING: R

DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Joss. I just get bored sometimes and need to play with other people's toys. 

~~~~~

The people are fading away, 

As I slip into colours then ten shades of grey, 

If I don't last this one tell them when I've gone, 

That playing with you was incredible fun. 

'Ten Shades of Grey' by Terrorvision

~~~~~

London, 1880

He had to make her understand the truth he couldn't tell her.

"I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me.."

But she couldn't see. All she saw was the surface.. just like they all did. Just like they were all supposed to. Knowing that was the truth didn't stop his heart from breaking. His disguise was too good for her to see past.

"I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me. "

William watched helplessly as Cecily got up and left. He was desperate to go after her and tell her the truth.. she'd want him if she knew the truth... 

"Will..?" A soft, familiar voice came from behind him and William hastily blinked the tears out of his eyes. 

"What is it, Michael?" His voice cracked with unshed tears and he coughed to cover his embarrassment, then turned to face his little brother. 

The younger man's face was serious, pained and bleak. Just two years his junior, the similarity between the two men was marked.. the unruly hair (darker in the case of the younger brother), the slim build, the prominent cheekbones.. but the eyes made the difference between them. Endless, open blue for the eldest but deep, dark chocolate for the youngest. 

"Your presence is required." Michael stated flatly.

"Right now?" William demanded. "This is not the best.." 

"The Council's already met and they've agreed your plan." Michael told him. "They want it done tonight."

William paled and looked towards where Cecily stood on the other side of the room. 

"Tonight.." He whispered desperately giving his pain full reign for a moment, then his face hardened bitterly. "Tonight's just fine." 

#####

"There they are." 

Michael told him softly from the shadows on the other side of the darkened alleyway. He pointed off in the direction of three elegantly dressed people lingering on the steps of a house illuminated in the murky glow of the gaslights. 

William peered around the edge of the wall at the people. His face was still set into the hard and resolved mask he'd settled upon earlier in the evening. This was it. He began to move out of the alleyway but his brother placed a strong hand on his shoulder suddenly and stopped him.

"Are really you sure you want to do this, Will?" Michael's voice was rough and pained. Tears sparkled in his eyes. "It's not too late to not do this!"

William smiled and placed a reassuring hand onto his brother's shoulder, looking down into his open and honest face.

"I love you, little brother.. I am doing the right thing." He told him steadily, more steadily than he really felt.

"But Will.." He blurted. 

"More people will die if I don't." William cut in firmly. 

"There's no guarantee that they wont just kill you outright!" The younger man was letting his feelings get the better of him and that wouldn't do at all. 

"Then someone else will have to take my place and try again." He stated calmly. "We're all just tools, Michael. A secret force against the darkness.." 

"We're supposed to Watch!" Michael blurted. "Not get involved! The Slayer.."

"The Slayer.." William interjected firmly. ".. is dead, Michael. Dead and buried and quite incredibly dead. Until they find the next Slayer we are at the mercy of Them! And everyday they take a step closer to destroying us.." His fear was evident but so was his resolve.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment before Michael turned away and hung his head.

"I don't see why it has to be you!" He complained. 

"Because I'm the only one with nothing to lose." William stated softly. 

"You have us, Will! We need you!" He cried. 

"No Michael." He smiled sadly. "You're the one needed here now. This is my chance to make a difference, to be something.. instead of that fool I've played for so long that I don't know where he ends and I begin anymore." 

"I wish they could know how wonderful you really are, Will.. the things you've done.. the sacrifice you're making." 

"They never can." He swallowed hard and then snorted bitterly. "Let William Travers die unloved and unremembered." He pulled the sheets with his poems written on out of his pocket and glared at them. "Who's going to care about there being one less bloody awful poet in this world?!" 

He scrunched up the poems viciously and looked back at his brother.

"Is everything prepared?" He asked.

"Yes." Michael replied, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. "Miss Melody has the spell all ready for when it's needed."

"Good." He nodded then took his brother's shoulders in his hands and looked into his eyes squarely. "If it doesn't work.. if.." He swallowed hard. "If I don't get my soul back.. then you know what you'll have to do.." 

Michael licked his lips and nodded firmly, blinking back tears. 

"No pity, Michael." He stated. "You wont be able to give an inch. You wont be fighting me.. not killing me... without a soul, it will be just the thing that killed me." 

Michael nodded more vigorously, understanding but not liking. William smiled grimly and let go.

"And, if it does work, then we'll have the information and the means we need to do good.. it will all be worth it.. and there's always.."

"I know, the prophecies of Aberjian." Michael interjected. "The vampire with a soul.. do you really believe in that, Will?"

"No. It's a load of bloody nonsense." 

William drew a phial of liquid from inside his coat and dabbed the fake moisture at his eyes, then he thought of Cecily's rejection and real tears came as well. She was all he'd ever really wanted. All the reward he'd asked for. She was the one beautiful, irridescent, perfect thing in the world of monsters and demons that he'd been born into. He'd never had a choice except fighting for the sake of a world that couldn't care less about him. Lying to hide it's existence. Born into a secret he could not reveal and could not turn away from. Unimportant in the end though. Just another one of the Watchers. But he was going to be important, even if Cecily would never know about it. He had nothing left to lose. He was beneath her but he would not always be. This would make him enough. One day she would get to see the real him which had lurked beneath the mask of necessity. 

"How do I look..?" He asked Michael, having suitably wetted up his eyes and messed up his appearance. "Do I look like a good meal for a vampire?" 

Michael laughed involuntarily. "They'd be foolish if they didn't want to eat you, brother." 

"Good." He set his expression and faced the end of the alleyway again. The vampires hadn't moved. They were arguing amongst themselves. "Angelus and Darla." William spat out the names in disgust.

"Drusilla's the weak spot." Michael reminded him. "You want to get her attention if you want to get into the group." 

The brothers exchanged a look, which out of the blue became a quick and forceful hug. William pulled back determinedly and took a deep breath before running out into the street, crying, clutching his tattered pages of poetry and tearing them up as he went. 

Michael watched as William ran directly into the path of the vampires.

"Watch where you're going!" He heard his brother bark as he 'accidentally' dropped his papers. He lingered long enough picking them up for the unholy trio to take note of him and then continued on his way. The mad vampire Drusilla followed him off into the night.

"My god!" Michael whispered in horror. 

##### 

China, 1900

Two men meet in a shadow-dappled alleyway behind an intricately wrought building. Somewhere nearby water flows. Further out, there is screaming and fire streaking the sky into patterns of red and orange.

"The Slayer's dead." Says one in a tone that could tired or just bored. 

"Good job." Replies the other enthuisastically.

"That's the last job I do for you, Travers. It's over now."

"Don't be like that, Will." The man absents fingers the scarred flesh of his jawline. "It was necessary."

"Spike." 

The first 'man' walks away. 

"You're still my brother, William.." The second man calls out.

But the man continues to walk away without saying another word.

"William..!"

#####

TBC...


	2. Make An Effort

TITLE: Tenacious of Life part 2

AUTHOR: Erykah Miszti 

EMAIL: erykah@sweet-poison.net

WEBSITE: http://www.sweet-poison.net/

SUMMARY: A bit of a writing experiment. A 'what if' kind of a tale concerning Spike. What if what we know is true but only the smallest part of the story? 

SPOILERS: Up to Season five.. sort of Alternative universe and yet somehow not. *frown*

RATING: R

DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Joss. I just get bored sometimes and need to play with other people's toys. 

~~~~~

The answers always are waiting there  
You give me feelings that I used to get  
And remember things that I had forgotten  
Long ago

'Darkside Lightside' by Ash

~~~~~

Sunnydale, 2001

Quentin Travers walked warily into the crypt. It appeared to be empty but appearances were often deceptive. His old eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did he was unsurprised to see the coldness of the place broken up by small touches of the modern world. A half smile crossed his face. 

"I was wondering when you'd get here." A voice said from out of the shadows behind him.

Quentin turned to see Spike standing between him and the door brandishing a large knife. 

"I had a visit from your goons this afternoon." Spike continued. "Still don't know the dirty little secret, do they?" 

"Spike.." Quentin began. 

"Whatever you're pulling on the Slayer.. it's not going to work." Spike cut in. "She's smarter than you." 

Quentin laughed.

"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" He asked.

Spike merely inclined his head and watched Quentin steadily. A nasty smile crossed Quentin's face and he gestured towards the knife.

"Is that meant to scare me? I know you can't hurt me anymore." 

"If that's true.." Spike smirked. "..then why are you so afraid…?" 

"We can remove your.. little problem." Quentin interjected a little too quickly. He WAS afraid but he thought he'd been good at not showing it. Can't hide fear from a vampire though. He should have remembered that. 

"Oh?" Spike inquired.

"Get rid of the chip.. what do you say?" 

"And the price..?" Spike asked coldly. "Nothing the Council offers is ever without a price."

Quentin swallowed heavily. 

"Simple." He replied. "You just do what you were supposed to do… what you were sent here to do in the first place.. kill the Slayer."

#####

London, 1880

Michael Travers paced up and down the length of the room. It wasn't a very big room, so he covered it in a few strides and started again. On the floor near him knelt a young woman in a black dress which exposed more shoulder flesh than he was used to seeing. It was very distracting. 

"Miss Melody.." He demanded. "Are you ready yet?" 

The woman ignored him and kept on arranging the objects on the floor in front of her. 

"Melody?" He demanded again. 

"Will you please just shut up, Michael!" She snapped. "This is a complex and difficult spell and I am trying to concentrate!" 

Michael duly shut up and went back to pacing. 

Melody began burning herbs and started talking in a tone too low for him to understand the words. A pall of mist began to fall over the room. Michael stilled and watched her as she picked up the Orb of Thesula from where it lay before her. She seemed mesmerized by it but as she stared into it's depths a choking sob escaped her lips, which then turned into an all out choke. Michael realised that something was going wrong and rushed to her side but he was pushed back by a force that glowed green as he touched it. Beyond the barrier Melody continued to choke, green slime and blood pouring from her mouth now. She looked up at him and her eyes glowed a fierce red. A terrible grinding sound filled the room, grating on Michael's teeth and making his ears pop. 

"No." A voice that wasn't hers came from out of her mouth. "This will not be!"

Melody's hand, no longer under her control, threw the Orb so that is hit the wall and smashed, raining shards down upon the two occupants of the room. 

"Not ever!" Said the voice, then Melody collapsed and the room was silent and still. 

Michael now managed to get to the stricken girl, she started crying softly with occasional harsh coughing. 

"I was blocked." She said when she was able to speak. "Something wouldn't let me perform the spell." 

"You can't give him his soul back..?" Michael asked in horror and she shook her head sadly. "But.." He broke off. "What stopped you..?" 

"I don't know." She replied. "But it was powerful.." She frowned. "and strange. Focused from somewhere but.. " 

Melody turned terrified eyes to his. He'd never seen the witch afraid before now. 

"Your brother is lost to us." 

#####

New York, 1977

"Quentin… long time, no leaving permanent scars…" Spike called out cheerfully. 

"Spike." Quentin Travers acknowledged. 

Spike was looking just a little bit different to the last time Quentin had seen him. The bleached hair, standing on end, the torn jeans and the safety pins. He'd learnt that you could always count on Spike to be up on the latest fashions.. or anti-fashions. First time he'd seen him it had been all motorcycles and leather. Very James Dean. Quentin had, of course, mostly worn tweed.

"Let me guess… you've got a job for me!" Spike sneered and it really suited the new look. "You never just turn up for coffee and a family chit chat… it upsets me, you know.. right down deep inside." 

Quentin said nothing.. it was usually safer that way. Spike wasn't joking about the permanent scars. He had some on his back to prove it from their last meeting. It was often painful meeting his undead relation but it did tend to get the job done.

"So, who do you want me to kill this time..?" Spike sat on the countertop, toying with the pans boiling on the stove.

They had arranged to meet in the kitchens of Quentin's hotel, which had seemed like a good idea at the time.. he'd be in a place of his own choosing.. but, watching Spike watching the boiling liquid, he was beginning to think he'd made a mistake. 

"The Slayer." Quentin said warily. 

Spike's sneer was pure evil. 

"What she do?" He asked, tilting his head and looking like he was loving this. He had power over him and Quentin knew it. "Did she question your 'stake first and ask questions later' policy..? Live long enough to wonder about the black and the white world you paint for the dumb little bitches..?" He picked up a spoon and stirred one of the pans. 

Quentin glanced around the kitchen.. where were the staff? They'd been gone an awfully long time now. 

"Well then..?" Spike tried to hurry him up. He jumped off the countertop and crossed menacingly towards Quentin. "What did she do to get her a death sentence from her own protectors? Huh?" 

"Just kill her." Quentin snapped. "It doesn't matter why. I wont explain myself to you!" 

"Oooo.. grow some balls there did you, Quentin..? Glad I've survived long enough to see that! I thought that family trait had died with me." 

"I'm sorry I'm not Michael. I'm sorry he's not here for you to torture." Quentin stated without meaning to, horrifying himself. 

Spike's face when from cheerfully sneering to cold and blank, a hand shot out and closed around Quentin's throat tightening painfully as Spike lifted him off the ground. 

"Your grandfather.." Spike began slowly. "..wasn't the topic of conversation here." The fingers tightened further until finally Spike relented and let him fall to the floor. 

There was an expression of total disgust on Spike's face now. 

"Just tell me where this damned Slayer is..?" He demanded. 

#####

TBC…..


End file.
